Three Strikes (Four of a Kind Book 3)

by Kellie Bean

  I make happy noises as I chew, perfectly aware of the way Rosie is watching me. "It's so good," I say after swallowing the first bite, before taking another for effect.

  "Yay!" Rosie says, bouncing up and down a little. "I know I'm not as good as my mom, but she keeps telling me that I won't get any better if I don't practice, so here we are."

  I finish my piece before insisting on another kiss, which Rosie happily gives.

  "I won't stay long," she says after we've managed to pull ourselves apart from one another. "I know you've got a ton to do tonight."

  "I think I've earned a break," I say, unwilling to turn away even a moment of Rosie's time. "Want to sit out back with me for a while?"

  "Five minutes," she concedes. "I promised I'd be home for dinner."

  "I'll take what I can get."

  Rosie and I step into the backyard, Molly at our heels, and take over the two empty loungers that look out over the lawn. The empty green space is mostly Molly's territory since the town drew the renovation line at letting us get a pool, but watching our little dog run around like a maniac is plenty of entertainment for Rosie and I.

  Our hands intertwine as soon as we're both lying down. The armrest is digging uncomfortably into my elbow, but I don't really mind.

  "Where's your dad anyway?" Rosie asks after a minute. "I figured he'd be about ready with dinner by now."

  "That's a really good question." Dad has always been our go-to parent for any actually decent meals, and more often than not, he's already at least prepared to make dinner by the time we get home from school. But I don't think I've seen him since I got home. "Maybe he was trying to let me study?" I wonder out loud.

  "Or he's working on his book somewhere and lost track of time?" Rosie suggests. And it's possible, but not totally like him. Dad used to be a University professor in Richmond, but gave up his job so Mom could work here in Fairview. He's taught a couple of online courses since we've moved, but his real goal has been to finally finish the book he's always wanted to write. I try and make a point to ask him about it every few months, but he usually dodges the question, promising he's working on it but that there's not much to tell yet. I looked in his office when I was trying to find Grace and he wasn't there, and he wasn't in his room. I'm stumped.

  "No idea. I guess I'll try and track him down when you go, then maybe see about ordering a pizza or something if he hasn't had time to make anything."

  "Typical Reilly," Rosie says, smiling at me, her eyes crinkling around the edges. "You've always got to make sure everyone's okay, fed and happy."

  "Says the girl who baked and brought me banana bread."

  I let go of Rosie's hand only so I can shift my body more toward her, already regretting the choice not to just sit in the same chair she did, just to be closer to her.

  "I'm a drop in the niceness bucket compared to you," she says, not dropping my gaze.

  My lip puckers out a little. "Is that really all you think of me?" I ask. "Just nice. Is that all I am? Nice."

  "Nice. Artistic. Thoughtful. Smart. Kind..."

  "Yeah, I'm pretty sure three out of those five words just mean nice."

  "Charming. Friendly. Beautiful."

  I sit up in my chair, trying to resist the magnet-like urge that wants to pull me into Rosie's orbit so I can graze my fingers across her skin, smell the touch of citrus in her hair. She thinks I'm beautiful.

  "Beautiful?" I ask, making sure I heard her right before I do something silly. Reckless.

  Definitely not nice.

  "Downright sexy if you ask me."

  I'm officially a lost cause. I'm climbing into the other lounger, tucking my body right against Rosie's before I can stop myself.

  While part of me would be totally okay with just hearing Rosie list off all the things she likes about me from now until the end of the day, the time for talking is done.

  As if reading my intentions, Rosie's hand rests on top of my jeans, grazing up the side of my leg as I get lost in the feeling of having her this near to me.

  Any hint of a smile is gone from her lips as they press against mine, warm and eager. My hand finds her as the kiss intensifies, and I squeeze it automatically.

  She's here. With me.

  And I never want this moment to end.

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  School doesn't get any easier, but every part of my life that Rosie touches continues to get better and better. On one hand, I love learning everything I can about her. Rosie's favorite color is teal. She loves anything made from potatoes. Every screensaver or wallpaper she has is currently filled with pictures of guinea pigs, but she's never had a pet. On the other hand, even with a million more facts to learn, I feel like I know this girl implicitly, with every part of myself.

  Any school day that ends with the two of us having to go our separate ways feels like a kick in the gut.

  On Mondays she has to go to her dad's house for dinner. On this particular Monday, I end up walking home alone, because Rosie and I spent way too long saying goodbye beside the art room.

  I'm halfway down Main Street, lost in my own thoughts when I notice a familiar blond ponytail bobbing up and down, not too far ahead of me.

  Reece!

  I break into a run, glad for the stretch of empty sidewalk, catching up to her within seconds. It takes my sister a second to notice that she has company.

  "Hey, hey!" I say, a little breathless. "I thought you had practice today."

  "Coach Wasserman is sick, so we got a surprise day off."

  "Nice."

  "Sure..." Reece answers with a shrug, still gazing up ahead. At this time of day, the town is full of people going about their lives. Mostly kids our age on their way home from school, but after a couple of years here, I can recognize Mr. Brown who has taken up his usual spot on the bench by the park. Tony, who works part-time in the convenience store on Spence Road, and part time as a cameraman for Kent's mom as she tries to start up a Fairview News Facebook page.

  "Right...You somehow enjoy the whole sports thing. No soccer equals...bad?" I'm trying here, really working to get a smile from my sister, but she's not taking the bait. She's barely engaging at all.

  "Everything okay?" I ask, wondering if Reece would have preferred if I'd stayed behind and left her to her thoughts.

  "It's John stuff," she answers. Unlike Rhiannon, or even Reagan, it doesn't usually take a lot of promoting to get Reece to fill someone in on whatever she's thinking or feeling. That someone doesn't even always need to be a person she knows all that well. If she's got something on her mind, she's usually more than happy to share. "It's weird,” she continues, “There's this one random conversation we had back at the end of last year about soccer, about missed practices and skipping practice. I can't get it out of my head. Like, I know if we were still together, we'd be hanging out right now."

  "You miss him."

  "So much."

  "Do you regret breaking up?"

  Reece doesn't answer right away. Instead, we walk on in silence, turning onto Oakridge together.

  Her answer comes slowly, with a note of finality in her voice.

  "No. It wasn't going to work. It wasn't working. I don't know. I don’t think he was happy. So basically, I have no idea what I'm talking about. Still...no. No regrets. However it works out, we'll both be okay."

  My heart hurts for my sister. Also, a little bit for me. Even the thought of breaking up with Rosie, of never getting to hold her again, physically hurts me.

  The house looms closer, and I still haven't come up with anything to say that could be seen as remotely comforting. Thankfully, Reece always has something to say to keep a conversation going. "Did you see Rhiannon's video today?"

  "Nope," I say, a little surprised at the turn of the conversation. "I didn't realize it came out yet." I subscribed to Rhi's channel as soon as I heard about it, but haven't quite figured out how to get my phone to tell me when something new is uploaded.

  "It's the one where she inter
viewed me!"

  Within seconds, Reece has her phone out to pull up the video, despite the fact that by the time it's done, we'll probably be in our front hallway, with access to a half-dozen different screens that could show it off to a much better effect. But, if she's this excited to show it to me, then I'm excited to see it.

  It's nearly impossible to catch anything at all as we struggle to walk beside one another, so Reece forces us to a stop, handing me her phone so I can have the best vantage point, still peering over my shoulder.

  Reece and Rhiannon are sitting in Rhiannon's room perfectly framed, side by side, and looking more identical than usual. I wonder which of my sisters came up with that idea, or if it's something that just sort of happened.

  The video is short and very sweet, as Rhiannon interviews her technically older sister, focusing in on Reece's perspective for the entirety of the video. Their relationship takes center stage—the ways in which they're alike, mostly physical, and all their many, many, many differences.

  "Nice!" I say, as the video ticks to a close, recommending some other video featuring a set of identical twins from Ghana.

  "Nice?" Reece grabs the phone back from me, using her thumb to scroll down. "Her viewers loved me! Look at these comments. This girl thinks this was Rhi's best video yet and wants to see one with you or Reagan next. This guy said I'm way hotter than Rhiannon, which is super weird and kind of creepy. This girl thinks I should make my own channel!"

  Her enthusiasm is catching. She obviously had a great time. "You were a natural," I say, starting to walk toward home again.

  "So, what do you think?" Reece asks a minute later, after opening the door. As soon as we're inside, Molly comes charging down the stairs toward us.

  "About what?" I ask, kicking off my shoes. I'm already thinking about the pile of homework I have waiting for me in my bag, and potentially grabbing something to eat too. Also, talking to Rosie.

  "About me starting my own channel? I was thinking like Reece's Pieces. Or just Reece. One name."

  Well that's a twist, and I suspect not a good one. I turn and face my sister, who is still radiating excitement. Maybe I've misunderstood.

  "You want to make your own channel? Like posting videos and stuff?"

  "Yeah! You saw what they were saying. I'd be awesome."

  "Of course! It's a lot of work. Rhiannon spends hours editing these things, and you already have so much on your plate. Like, you do more than anyone I know, how would you even have time for this?"

  "I'll figure it out. I was looking during lunch and they have all kinds of videos to show you how to make videos. It's really not as hard as you'd think. Like Rhiannon said, if it goes well, it might look good on my college applications. I dunno, I'm still thinking about it. We'll see."

  Well that's something at least. Knowing Reece, there's a good chance that by tomorrow morning something else will have caught her attention. Please, please, please let something else catch her attention. Anything else. As much as it can sometimes be weird to see the differences my sister and I share, it can also be really difficult to find ways to stand out. This is clearly something that Rhiannon's proud of. I can't really see her loving the idea of Reece stepping into something that she clearly sees as her thing.

  It's totally possible that my gut feeling is wrong in this. I also have years of experience navigating Donovan sister disasters, and it's gotten to the point where I feel like I can see a problem coming from miles away. Which doesn't always mean I can figure out what to do about them. I could just tell Reece that Rhiannon might get upset at the idea. If Reece takes it the wrong way and gets defensive, she'll end up making her channel just to prove that she can. Or picking a fight with Rhiannon, who probably doesn't even know this is a possibility yet.

  I love that Reece is trying to find ways to beef up her own applications for school next year, especially since grades aren't really her priority, but she has a million different things she's incredible at.

  She doesn't need this. I suspect Rhiannon does.

  "Have you decided where you're applying yet?" Yes, I'm shamelessly changing the subject, trying to speed along Reece's train of thought until it goes off in another direction entirely.

  "Ugh." Reece drops her bag on the floor before leaning in to scratch Molly behind the ears. "I don't want to talk about it. This feels like the biggest decision I'll ever have to make. I'm totally happy to put it off for as long as possible."

  "Yup, I get that. First I have to get through high school. So I think I'm going to go study for a bit. I need to do a final pass on that history essay for tomorrow."

  "I really need to start that."

  Forcing my mouth to stay clamped shut, not willing to nag my sister, I head up the stairs. Since the last time I found Aunt Grace napping in my room, she's been up and about every day by the time my sisters and I get home. Today, once again, the door to my room is shut. One quick look inside finds my aunt curled up in my bed. I only know she's in there because of the lumpy form she's created on top of my mattress.

  As much as I'd love to be in my own room, on my own computer and in my own space, I'm not about to wake her up. She's a guest, and I volunteered. Which means one of my sisters is about to have to volunteer to let me use their computer.

  By dinner time, I'm happy with my essay. Although, I could probably put another hour into making sure it’s as good as it can possibly be. If I had the time. Instead, I'll have to start in on math and science to fill my time before bed.

  At this rate, senior year is going to fly by filled with nothing but homework.

  Somehow, all of my sisters and both of my parents manage to be home for dinner. Still, there's no sign of Aunt Grace.

  Reaching over to grab the salad bowl, my eyes catch my dad's careful gaze, watching over every element of the meal he's prepared to ensure everyone is taken care of. "No Grace tonight?"

  "I think she's still sleeping," Mom says, cutting in before Dad has a chance to speak.

  "Oh. I was hoping to get into my room for a couple hours tonight, and she was in there when I got home." I feel selfish for even saying the words. Mom did say she might be able to get Aunt Grace to give me a little more time in there. It never hurts to open the door and see if maybe I can at least get a chance to get in there and do my laundry.

  "How has she not adjusted to the time difference yet?" Rhiannon asks before sitting down, her own plate loaded up with a little bit of everything.

  "Let's just give her whatever time she needs," Mom says, her tone leaving no opening for arguments.

  Mom steps toward me. "I'll make sure she's up and about soon, so you can have the rest of the night. Still, Grace is our guest, we should be thrilled to have some extra time with her now."

  She shoots the whole table a glare that might as well function as an exclamation point.

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  That next weekend, the most exciting thing on my calendar is getting to be Rosie's date to her friend Jen's birthday party, which is basically just a small house party in the middle of the afternoon with Jen's friends and cousins since her parents insist on everyone going home by five so that they can do a family dinner.

  I remember Reagan going to this party last year, the two of us walking to Jen's neighborhood together since Sarah lives only two streets away. And now I'm here too, leaning against the couch, cross-legged on the floor with everyone else.

  Jen and Frank put together a big pile of board games they wanted to try, and we've all broken up into groups in an attempt to try as many as we can in the hours we have.

  Rosie sits beside me, her knee touching mine as the two of us battle Reagan and Kent in a card game I'm not totally sure I understand. Maybe I'd have half a chance if the cards we were using were like hearts and clubs and stuff, but instead my hand is full of goblins, elves and dwarves, and I have no idea what I'm doing with myself. But I think I might be winning?

  "Kent, I still have to show you my portfolio," Rosie declares after playing her
hand. "I think I'm almost done."

  "For sure," Kent answers. He takes a second to study his own hand before putting two cards down. I'm desperately trying to follow along before it's my turn again.

  "You should see Reilly's too. It's coming together really nicely."

  "Oh, that's cool. I didn't know you were applying to art school too."

  "Might as well. Although my stuff isn't nearly as good as Rosie's. But who knows."

  "Your stuff is awesome," Reagan answers before Rosie can say what I'm sure would be the same thing. She plays three red cards, each with a different character. And it's officially my turn.

  I put down a mage on top of the card Reagan just played. He's got a three over his head, but I'm still not sure what that means. But no one complains that I've done something wrong.

  I pick up a new card, and the game continues in silence for a moment, everyone concentrating, maybe as lost as I am.

  "I think you just attacked me instead of Rosie," Kent says to Ray, looking about as confused as I feel.

  "Maybe it was on purpose," Reagan says, raising her eyebrows in a challenge. "I could be switching teams. You don't know. It's totally possible I'm a master at this game and you are just unable to comprehend my unimaginable talent."

  "Switching teams seems more like Rosie's thing recently." Kent winks, probably meaning nothing by the comment, but his off-handed remark hits anyway.

  Everyone in our foursome goes dead quiet. My free hand grabs for Rosie's without thinking, but my head has already snapped toward Kent.

  I'm trying to work out how to stick up for my girlfriend without insulting her friend when my sister jumps to my rescue. "What the hell is that supposed to mean?"

  Kent's whole body is frozen. He realizes he's said something wrong, but hasn't quite figured out what it was or how to backtrack. "You know, uh, just that last year she liked guys and now she likes girls. It was just a joke."

  "It was a stupid joke," Reagan responds, dead serious. "She's the same person she's always been."

  Kent still looks nervous. This year his black hair has been streaked with both blue and yellow, each strand standing nearly on end, making his whole body looked surprised rather than just his expression.